


The Taming of the Brew

by GoodbyeBlues



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Barista Bucky Barnes, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes has no chill, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic Bucky Barnes, Meet-Cute, Natasha is so done with these boys, No one has ever heard of Chill in this universe, Nurse Steve Rogers, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Potion Shop, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers has no chill, Top Steve Rogers, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, all the pining, non-graphic injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11171943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodbyeBlues/pseuds/GoodbyeBlues
Summary: When overworked nurse Steve Rogers sets out to get a simple cup of coffee, he somehow finds himself in a curious little shop owned by a captivating, yet slightly confusing young man. Steve soon discovers that his life begins to change for the better when he becomes a frequent customer, but that's got to be because of the delicious beverages, and absolutely not because of... anything else. It couldn't possibly have to do with the beautiful man behind the counter, who whispers secret words into cups of coffee and seems to know Steve better than he knows himself. ...Right?...A Nurse!Steve and Magic!Barista!Bucky Coffee Shop AU!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! Please enjoy this little slice of magical barista Bucky and the always oblivious Steve Rogers <3

 

 

It wasn’t Steve’s fault that Sam was bad at giving directions. 

 

It also wasn’t Steve’s fault that he was coming off a 15 hour shift at the hospital, the eight car pile-up that had occurred during the night requiring all hands on deck in the ER. Steve loved his job, loved being able to help, to heal, to be part of a team that made a difference in people’s lives. That didn’t mean his eyelids didn’t feel like lead weights by the time he left each day though, rumpled scrubs and lingering emotions being shed before exiting through the sliding glass doors of the hospital. It wasn’t easy, leaving the intense rush, the charged emotions, and at times, the overwhelming stress at work where such feelings needed to stay, separate and controlled. In fact, most days were damn hard. The good moments usually outweighed the bad though, and in the end Steve knew he wouldn’t trade his job for anything.

 

Steve Rogers was a nurse, and right now, he needed a strong fucking cup of coffee.

 

Which is why he was standing in a dimly lit shop, staring up at some sort of other-language chalkboard menu, trying to decipher just how the fuck he could ask for a simple latte. 

 

His neighbourhood had been changing over the past few years, gentrification running rampant through the familiar Brooklyn streets, hipster coffee bars, artisan cheese vendors and bicycle repair shops popping up on every street corner. While Steve wasn’t exactly in favour of all the new changes, he did like to support local businesses as much as possible, and tried his best to check out new venues when he had the chance. (He was maybe a little bit of a hipster himself, but his beard was aesthetically pleasing he had been told, and those plaid shirts were only for the weekend, ok?) 

 

His walk home this morning had led him down a street a few blocks from his apartment in the Heights, a desire for caffeine and a recommendation from Sam,  _ (“It’s on one of those fruit streets Steve, and it’s the best. There’s a red door. You’ll see it.”)  _ guiding him down Cranberry Street on a whim, thankfully finding a place that seemed to match Sam’s description. (There was also an Orange Street and Pineapple Street that he could have checked, but the door he was looking for was red, and cranberries were red, so there was some sort of misguided logic here, Steve was certain.)

 

Menus like this though, made him not so fond of the changes. The chalkboard almost didn’t even look like a food menu, but the mason jars (ugh, have an original thought, hipsters) of various dried teas and small packages of cookies and treats lined up on the display by the old-fashioned cash register told him otherwise. He was able to spot an odd looking coffee machine behind the counter at least, thank god. The remaining walls were lined with other homemade goods, soaps, hand-dipped candles, incense sticks and stacks of weathered looking books, the crystals scattered among them catching the early morning light enticingly and casting prisms as it glided gently through the large windows at the front of the shop. It was a comfortable space, a sense of peace and calm seemingly woven through the shop, but there were only like, three chairs in the entire room. Sam needed to up his standards a little, if he was going to be giving out  café recommendations again. 

 

Steve was just about to turn and exit the seemingly empty shop, the thought of  _ fuck it, there’s orange juice at home  _ flickering through his exhausted mind when the curtain separating the back room from the counter fluttered and moved dramatically, an unseen struggle taking place behind it, a muffled curse in a foreign language (Russian, maybe?) being expelled before a figure was finally able to push themselves through the gap of the offending material. 

 

“Глупый простыня.” 

 

Steve blinked. The guy was fucking gorgeous. Oh no. This was bad. Steve was pretty sure he still had someone’s urine on him somewhere, and this guy, the owner he presumed, looked like he belonged in a magazine. Steve observed a toned arm reaching up in an attempt to smooth down curtain-ruffled hair with only mildly successful results, his simple T-shirt riding up slightly with the motion to reveal a gloriously defined Adonis belt. Steve swallowed. This was terrible. 

 

The guy finally turned to face him, and yah, Steve was going to have to change neighbourhoods after this. He had the most crystalline grey eyes Steve had ever seen, and they were currently taking in Steve’s ‘walking home’ clothes, which consisted of his most relaxed pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt that probably should have hit the trash when he added those last few pounds of muscle to his chest. It was an embarrassing combination to say the least, and the intensity with which this stranger stared at him was evidence of this. Fucking hell. 

 

“Ah yes. Hello. Sorry, the curtain, it likes to. I mean.” A quick, inexplicable motion, expressive hands fluttering through the air. “Can I help you?” Even his voice was perfect, rich and hinting at foreign lands, licks and whirls of character and melody caressing every sound, the slightly awkward delivery only accentuating the man’s charm. Aw no. No. Get it together, Steve. 

 

“Uh, yes. Curtains, they do like to do that.” Steve attempted to replicate the hand motion, because he was an idiot at making small talk and his brain was apparently a fucking moron. “But I hope you manage to forgive them.”  _ Steve Rogers, this is internal Steve Rogers speaking. Shut the fuck up, or say something useful.  _ “I’d like a latte, please.”  _ Better. _

 

Grey eyes were now alight with whimsical interest and not-quite-hidden amusement. “Of course. Do you know what purpose you want it to have?” 

 

Steve blinked again. Coffee only had one purpose, did it not? “Uh, to keep me awake as I walk home, I guess?” 

 

An aristocratic brow was raised. “I see. Can I presume you’ll be sleeping once you get there? How far away do you live?” 

 

“Yes, and um, 20 minutes maybe?” Steve didn’t really know why these things mattered, but the guy’s voice in his ears was like fucking music, and he didn’t want him to stop talking just yet. 

 

“I have just the thing in mind then.” A dark head dipped below the back counter suddenly, emerging with more mason jars to be spread across the surface, measuring spoons and a little mortar and pestle appearing as if by magic. 

 

He set to work quickly, grinding together what seemed to be different nuts and spices and beans before placing the mixture in the odd looking coffee machine, an intense look of concentration on his face as the water was added and the beverage started to flow out into a paper cup. The cream was added with particular reverence, a soft closing of eyes and a whispered hush of breath causing Steve’s belly to flutter oddly, before the to-go cup was being placed on the counter in front of Steve, a five-pointed star perfectly crafted in the foam on top. 

 

Steve cleared his throat, which was suddenly tight for some reason. “Thank you. How much?” 

 

The shop owner smiled, easy and disarmingly sweet. “On the house this time. Just promise if you like it, you’ll come back for another sometime.” 

 

This guy was gonna be the death of him. He already knew it. No matter how this coffee tasted, Steve would be coming back for more. “Thank you…” 

 

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.” An exquisitely pale hand was extended and Steve met the grip, metaphorical lighting flashing and angels singing as their skin came into contact. In reality, nothing life-altering actually happened, but Steve still somehow felt that it had either way. “And you’re very welcome, Steve.”

 

Steve nodded his thanks again before he picked up his cup and left the shop, the little bell over the door dinging cheerfully as he exited, the  _ The Taming of the Brew _ sign only becoming apparent to him as he looked back at the building. He could see Bucky through the window, wiping down the counter, the sunshine illuminating the gentle curve of his lips, picking up the lines of caramel in his dark hair and the flush of his skin, making him glow, a fairy-tale prince out of time, before Steve finally turned to continue his walk home. 

 

Steve sipped his drink on the way, feeling light-footed and content, his body mellowing into a calm, loose state as he unlocked his apartment door and made his was into the bathroom. He took the last sip of his drink before taking a quick shower and plopping onto his bed, the lingering essence of the nutty richness running through him as easily as the water had rushed over his skin under the showerhead. As he nestled into his blankets on the cusp of sleep, Steve thought of clear grey eyes once again, and suddenly realized two things; One being that he hadn’t felt this relaxed since before his mother had passed away, the other being that he couldn’t remember having ever given Bucky his name. 

 

The thoughts slipped quietly from his head though, as he was quickly pulled into the embrace of a deep, comforting sleep, and they were completely forgotten by the time he awoke eight hours later, feeling more rested than he had in years. 

 

Steve stretched his arms above his head as he lay in bed, slowly coming back to life, feeling the contentment of a good night’s sleep settle around him as thoughts of grey eyes and muttered curses, delicious drinks and an intriguing little shop, floated through him easily. 

 

Steve was off for the next two days, and although he hadn’t made any plans yet, he figured treating himself to another cup of coffee or two couldn’t hurt. 

 

Especially if he got to see Bucky again. 

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Глупый простыня - Stupid sheet. 
> 
> (Forgive me if my translation is incorrect, Google is my only Russian resource!)
> 
> No idea yet how long this will be, but there will be more! :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the enthusiastic response to chapter one! And now for some Bucky POV! <3

 

 

The bell above the door dinged, and Bucky couldn’t help it, he popped his head up like a meerkat from behind the counter where he was stocking more sleep-aid tea leaves. 

 

Natasha raised a questioning eyebrow as she entered, taking his Bucky’s slightly disappointed face. “Expecting someone else? I do work today, you know.” 

 

“Not exactly.” He hurried to duck back below the counter, not wanting Natasha to begin the inevitable interrogation that would follow the instant she noticed his cheeks flushing red.  _ Betrayers,  _ he thought sullenly, directing a furrow of his brow down to his cheeks. It was impossible to scowl at yourself without a mirror, but he hoped his face got the message. 

 

Among other things, Bucky could manipulate small items to a slight degree; infuse a cup of coffee with an extra jolt of wakefulness, a bar of soap with an increase of confidence, or a candle with the ability to reduce anxiety, to name a few examples, but he couldn’t stop the blood that flowed to his face when he thought of a certain man,  _ Steve,  _ walking into his shop, an open smile on his tired face and a too-tight t-shirt hugging his torso. Bucky longed to be that t-shirt.  _ Longed  _ for it _.  _ But he would never tell Natasha that, not in a million years. He’d never hear the end of it. Bucky Barnes usually longed for bacon double cheeseburgers, for the rain to hold off during a grocery run, or for his shitty apartment to not be broken into while he was at work. He didn’t long for customers. It was unprofessional. Bucky Barnes also didn’t believe in love at first sight, not really. It didn’t change the fact that he was smitten as a kitten for Steve though, or at least the idea of Steve, and had been waiting all day, eyes darting to the door at the first tinkle of a bell, worse than Pavlov’s dog, in the off-chance Steve would happen to walk into the shop again. 

 

Bucky was  _ sensitive.  _ He didn’t know how it worked, or why, no answers forthcoming for his gnawing questions, and he had never met anyone else like him before to ask. All he knew was that sometimes little bits of information would pop into his mind, no rhyme or reason necessary, settling into his brain like they had always been there. He would see a stranger on the sidewalk and suddenly know their favourite colour, or their date of birth. Those were the things that came to him without thought, no effort or conscious will applied. If he looked harder, concentrated more, dug a little deeper, he could see what, he guessed, was someone’s  _ aura.  _ Bucky didn’t really know if that word was necessarily correct, but from the research he had done into the more supernatural side of life, he suspected it was close enough. Beyond that, sometimes he could hold a small item and infuse it with a sense of will, emotion bleeding out of him and into the new vessel, allowing it to take on whatever purpose he had transferred to it. This trick was more difficult, and more draining, as it seemed to almost be a literal transfer of sorts. Making a sleep-aid candle left him high-strung, while brewing a cup of coffee to enhance wakefulness left him feeling zapped of energy. The larger the dose of whatever he was making, the more he seemed to suffer, but suffer wasn’t really the right word either. It was a payment, a tit-for-tat, a natural order to how it should be. He was able to do these things, and it only made sense to Bucky that it came with a cost. He didn’t question it, just remained thankful he was able to help people in some small way, to soothe a person’s worries with a particularly special stick of incense, or enhance a person’s calm with a lovingly-crafted candle. It was just part of his life now, and he was happy to do it, happy to see a small glimpse of someone’s troubles and be able to make them even slightly better. 

 

He didn’t know Steve in the traditional sense, but he had been able to garner a few things while the man had walked into his shop, the very first being his name, the second being his, well, his  _ everything _ . Steve’s aura shone like a beacon in the night, and Bucky hadn’t even been  _ looking  _ for it, (he felt like it was almost an invasion of privacy to do that to someone without permission) but Steve’s had practically filled the room on it’s own volition, openness and care shining through with every bend of light. Steve’s aura was sea green and sunny-sky blue, ocean breezes and bits of pale sand. He was chocolate cake and rose petals, sunshine and dewy grass, a cold beer and a kiss in the rain. Bucky had never seen anything like it. It was  _ beautiful,  _ pure and good and honest, all traits indicative of the man attached to it. Bucky had been nearly bowled over when he had come into contact with it, and then Steve had smiled at his stupid curtain antics, and it had been all over. 

 

So now Bucky was watching the door like a pre-teen waiting for their first date, unknowing if Steve would come in today, much less if he would see him again  _ ever.  _ Bucky hoped he had liked the coffee. Maybe he had infused it with a little too much sleep magic. Maybe Steve was still asleep, in a latte-induced coma, because Bucky had gotten the charm wrong, had been distracted by blue eyes and sleepy yet genuine smiles, and had accidentally quadrupled the usual dose. Steve was likely in a Snow White state right now, and had no prince to wake him up, because Bucky had been too much of a coward and had been too busy getting trapped in curtains to ask for a phone number. 

 

Or maybe, Steve just didn’t like Bucky. He didn’t know which scenario would be worse. 

 

“James.”

 

Bucky blinked. He had been staring off into space for what was very likely a socially unacceptable amount of time. He shook his head and finally turned to Natasha, smiling to deflect from his momentary daydream. Maybe he needed to make himself a play-it-cool cookie or something, but it would only serve to zap him of any existing ‘cool’ in the process, so that probably wouldn’t work. Whyyyy was life so complicated?  “Whyyyyy?”

 

Natasha took a step closer, an inquisitive brow raised. “Did you hit your head?”

 

“No Nat, I am perfectly fine, thank you, I just-”

 

The bell dinged and suddenly Steve fucking Rogers was walking in and holy Jesus Christ, Bucky was not ready, he needed to change his clothes and brush his teeth and start volunteering to help orphaned kittens before he ever had a shot with this guy. So he did the only logical thing he could think of. Bucky ducked back behind the counter to hide, meerkat DNA be damned. 

 

He could really use a play-it-cool cookie right now. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated to include "ALL THE PINING" and "Absolutely no chill."

 

 

Steve was pretty sure he had just scared Bucky Barnes off forever.

 

He had been more prepared today, taking the time at home to shower and shave and put on clothing that actually fit before venturing out for another cup of coffee. Steve didn’t let himself dwell on why it took him twenty minutes to decide which shirt in his wardrobe said _‘trying, but not too hard.’_ He was going for a coffee. Nothing to get all worked up about, right? Right Steve. Chill.

 

So it was only slightly devastating when he pushed through the door of The Taming of the Brew, the little bell jingling in welcome, only to see his favourite barista duck behind the counter like Steve was Death, come to collect his soul.

 

Steve pulled at the collar of his shirt slightly, but it offered no sympathy. He had obviously wasted those twenty minutes for nothing. Just another day in the life of Steve Rogers.

 

“Hello, how can we help you?”

 

A redhead was currently making her way around to the back of the counter, a friendly smile aimed at Steve, but eyes glaring daggers at the floor where Bucky was crouched. Steve could see the top of his dark, fluffy looking hair poking over the edge. It was cute, in a life-ruining kind of way.

 

Steve, lacking the wherewithal to respond just yet, stared at the fluff with longing. His levels of pining were only slightly pathetic, he was aware. He took some consolation in the fact that he knew full-on pathetic levels had yet to be reached (he wasn’t openly weeping in public, so there was that). His shirt remained silent, refusing to comment on such trivialities. Stupid shirt.

 

The redhead lifted her glare from the floor and fixed Steve with a curious look, before glancing back to the floor, then finally back to Steve. Her face smoothed into an unreadable expression, but if Steve had to guess, he would call it perverse delight.

 

“James here was just stocking shelves, but I’m sure he’d be happy to help you with anything you need. Right James?” She broke the increasingly awkward silence with the question and what Steve suspected was a swinging foot, earning a muffled yelp from below the counter in response. Steve didn’t want to think about which part of Bucky’s anatomy had just received the end of the redhead’s pointy shoe. Considering Bucky’s anatomy in any sort of detail in public was a road that would only lead to embarrassment, Steve was wholly convinced.

 

What sounded suspiciously like muffled Russian curses were expelled before the fluffy hair was in motion, and suddenly Bucky was standing before him at the counter, looking like absolutely nothing unusual had just occurred.

 

“Hey Steve.” Pink lips formed perfect words as a pale elbow was extended to the counter with the intent of a casual-looking lean. Unfortunately the elbow somehow missed it’s target and Bucky was tipping over suddenly, Steve quickly reaching a hand across the counter to steady delicately muscled shoulders. Bucky’s face ignited into a beautiful shade of red as he finally got himself upright, pulling away from Steve’s touch after a lingering moment.

 

“Щеки, мы говорили об этом.” Bucky was grumbling, and Steve didn’t have a clue what he was saying, but he was pretty sure Bucky Barnes was officially the most adorable thing on the planet now, babies and puppies included. “Ah, yes. Well. Thank you.” A switch to English, and those expressive hands were at it again, smoothing down a rumpled shirt and running through untameable hair.

 

“You’re welcome.” Steve finally spoke for the first time since entering the shop, voice rolling like gravel over his tongue. It was as if he hadn’t spoken in a decade, and Bucky’s eyes seemed to fixate on his mouth before moving back up to his eyes. Steve, surprisingly enough, didn’t feel scrutinized under his intense gaze. He just felt _seen._

 

They lapsed back into silence, eyes connecting across the counter, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Steve probably would have stood there staring forever had the redhead not cleared her throat eventually.

 

“James. Help your customer.”

 

Bucky’s mind seemed to snap back into his body, and he blinked before shooting a charming smile at Steve. He did lean on the counter this time, but not before looking down at it with a wrinkled forehead and scrutinizing eyes, as if he ran the risk of it jumping out from under him. Once his arm was successfully planted, he leaned forward towards Steve, grey eyes focused and ready to help. “What can I get you?”

 

Steve swallowed. He had suddenly forgotten why he had come in, now that the ‘see Bucky Barnes again’ mission had been accomplished.

 

“Uh. Coffee.” Steve had produced four words now since entering, and one quarter of those were really only a noise. He needed help.

 

“I can do coffee.” Lips curling like a some sort of seductive Chesire cat, Bucky gestured to the chalkboard menu above them. Steve remembered the menu, the menu that made no sense, words like _Sleep_ and _Joy_ in places where _Dark Roast_ and _Columbian_ usually belonged. Nothing about this place was ‘usual’ though, including the man behind the counter. That didn’t mean Steve didn’t like it though. He decided to forgo deciphering the menu and take a chance. “How about you surprise me.”

 

Bucky’s face suddenly lit up like the fourth of July as his mouth formed a surprised ‘O’ shape, opening and closing a few times before seeming to decide on his next words. “Anything I want?”

 

Steve nodded, a smile twitching at his lips. “Anything you want. I trust you.” Steve didn’t know where that last part had come from exactly, but as soon as the words left his mouth he knew it was 100% wholeheartedly true.   

 

Grey eyes did something soft and complicated at that before Bucky was turning to the canisters lining the counter, his body moving smoothly and efficiently, very different from the Bucky of five minutes ago who had ducked behind a ledge and almost fallen over. This Bucky was calm and confident, finally in his element. Steve could relate there; in the ER he felt in control, completely capable and grounded in a life or death situation, but he somehow couldn’t get it together enough to order a simple cup of coffee on his day off. It was endearing to see Bucky feel so good in his shop. Bucky was the type of person who deserved to feel good every moment of the day. Steve was already very sure of this.

 

He attempted his own casual counter-lean as Bucky continued to work behind the counter. “So is your name actually James then, or Bucky?”

 

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched in a fond smile, but he didn’t lift his eyes from his task. “Only my mother and Nat call me James, my friends call me Bucky. But you can call me whatever you want. Just don’t call me late for dinner!” The joke was said with increasingly widened eyes, Bucky seeming to become horrified with himself as the attempt at humour left his mouth. Steve couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, not necessarily at the cheesy line, but more at the reaction of the man saying it. Bucky’s face was absolutely on fire now, and he turned around to face the coffee machine, pouring his ground mix into the receptacle. Steve had never wanted to hug somebody more.

 

“Well Buck, if we ever have dinner together, I’ll make sure to give you plenty of notice.” Steve smiled and Bucky made a peculiar little noise (of approval, Steve hoped) as the machine finished sputtering. He took a deep breath and lifted the cream, back still facing Steve, but Steve could somehow tell the man had closed his eyes. Bucky was whispering softly as the drink came together, and soon enough Bucky was turning, setting the to-go cup on the counter. Steve may have been mistaken, but Bucky looked a little more subdued now, a little more grounded now that the coffee had been made.

.

Steve lifted the cup and took a sip as he went to fish his wallet out of his pocket with his other hand. The liquid danced down his throat, spicy and rich and exhilarating, like the crest at the top of a roller coaster, before bursting to life in his stomach like a group of butterflies taking flight. Steve felt light, and good, and so, so happy suddenly, like everything made sense. He hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes until he was opening them again to see Bucky watching him closely from across the counter.

 

“Good?” Grey eyes were hopeful, waiting for Steve to give his approval.

 

Steve nodded. “The best. What is it?”

 

Bucky smiled as his face turned pink again, and he finally let his eyes drop away. “This one isn’t on the menu. It’s… special.”

 

“It’s perfect, thank you.” Steve threw a ten down on the counter, figuring it was time to make himself scarce before he said anything more than a thank you. ‘ _Will you have dinner with me/move in with me/marry me?’_ was probably a little much for the time being, and he didn’t want to come on too strong for only his second visit. That didn’t mean Steve couldn’t come back tomorrow though. “I should get going, but thank you for this, really. It’s delicious.” Steve hefted his cup and waved his change away from where Natasha was attempting to give it back. “I’m off tomorrow too, so I might have to drop in for another secret menu item or two,” Steve couldn’t help but add on as he decided to throw a wink out, why the hell not, and he could have sworn he saw Bucky’s knees get a little wobbly suddenly. “Thanks again Bucky.”

 

With a wide smile at the barista and a polite nod to the redhead, Nat, Steve turned and left the shop. It certainly hadn’t been the interaction he had imagined, especially given Bucky’s reaction when he had first walked in, but Steve felt good as the bell chimed and the door closed behind him. He felt _young._ Like he was on the cusp of something wonderful. He took another sip of his drink and started towards home, already looking forward to tomorrow.

 

* * *

  

Inside the shop, Bucky threw himself across the countertop as soon as Steve was out of sight. “Ohhhh my goddddddd. Nat. Help. I’m in love.”

 

Natasha smirked. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Щеки, мы говорили об этом" - "Cheeks, we talked about this."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am SO SORRY this took so long. I hope you enjoy though! <3

 

 

Bucky Barnes was in heaven. He heaved himself off of the counter with a dreamy sigh. 

 

“Did you see him Nat? Did you see?”

 

“Yes James, I saw. I have eyes.”

 

“Did you see his smile? And his laugh, oh my god, when he laughed, I almost died.  _ Died,  _ Nat. He laughed at my ‘late for dinner’ joke. Did you hear it? It was terrible. But he laughed. I love him.” 

 

“Congratulations.” Natasha was as deadpan as ever, but her eyes were lit with fond amusement. 

 

“He’s coming back tomorrow! We have to hurry!” He ran a hand through his hair haphazardly before picking up the cloth from the counter to throw in Natasha’s direction, Nat catching it with her usual level of dexterity. “You start cleaning! I have to do things. I need-.” Another hand through the hair. “Oh my god, I need a haircut. Natasha, you’re in charge!” 

 

Bucky was out the door in an instant, leaving Natasha to man the counter. She exhaled a huff of air before she started scrubbing. These fucking boys.

 

* * *

The bell above the door chimed, and this time Bucky was ready. 

 

His hair looked fucking amazing today, his normal pouf having been mostly successfully tamed and styled, and he had actually gotten through the entire morning without spilling any coffee or anything on himself, which was a blessing in itself. He had also spent a (not insignificant) portion of his evening Googling _‘things_ _to talk about with your crush,’_ (he had erased his internet history after, god forbid Nat borrow his laptop and see that disaster) so he was feeling pretty good about his ability to hold down a conversation for a five minute window, too. Things were finally looking up for ol’ Bucky Barnes. They got exceptionally better when Steve Rogers walked in though. 

 

Steve looked like the lovechild of an Abercrombie model and Jesus Christ today. He was  _ beautiful,  _ good and golden like a stack of fucking French toast _.  _ Bucky gripped the counter, lest his body take control and start floating into the stratosphere. (Bucky couldn’t actually fly, but with Steve around, better safe than sorry.)

 

Steve approached the counter with a megawatt smile and his arousingly pressed khakis (Steve ironed. Holy Moses he was perfect), taking in Bucky’s appearance in what he probably hoped was a subtle sweep, but Bucky, ever the keen eye, knew when he was getting checked out. He resisted the urge to do a little jig. That was best saved for the stockroom later, out of sight from clear blue eyes. 

 

“Morning Bucky. Nice hair.” Steve’s greeting/compliment was the smooth syrup on the thick stack of already delicious and hearty breakfast foods he was unwittingly supplying, and Bucky was more than ready to chow down. Game on.  

 

“Pets!” Unfortunately, Bucky’s brain and mouth were not on the same page today. He cleared his throat (maybe he had seasonal allergies or something, it felt all tight) as he readjusted a pen on the counter by twelve degrees. Focus. “I mean, yes, good morning Steve. I was wondering if you have pets. Hamsters, cats, dogs. Other… various... mammals.” Ok, so he was diving in with gusto, ten out of ten for enthusiasm, but jesus was this ever going terribly. The list on the Sweet 16 website didn’t mention segues or transitioning into topics. He would need to do more research next time. Blast. 

 

Luckily, Steve seemed to take the odd question in stride. He smiled again, and Bucky swore he could feel the Earth move. 

 

“No, no pets. Always wanted a dog, but at the moment what I’d really like is a coffee.” 

 

Motherfucker, how did Steve do that?  He probably didn’t even have to Google this stuff. Luckily, Bucky knew coffee. 

 

“I know coffee,” Bucky was quick to reply. Speed would surely smooth over the whole ‘pets’ fiasco. Surely. “Wanna trust my good judgement again Stevie?” 

 

Steve’s face turned a complicated shade of pink before he nodded, also seeming to have his own throat issues today. Curious. 

 

Bucky got busy, pulling out the extra-special beans he had pre-infused yesterday. This coffee was going to be full of warmth and contentment, an easy sense of peace layered with feelings of home. Bucky had decided to reel it in a little today; he had put a lot of his own emotion into yesterday’s coffee and didn’t want to be too over-the-top with the lovey-dovey feels right off the bat. Patience was a virtue after all, and he didn’t want to come off as too obvious. 

 

Bucky glanced up at Steve as he worked, who had taken up a casual hands-in-his-pockets stance across the counter. The weight of his large hands in his pockets was pulling the fabric of his khakis tight across the front of his pelvis.  _ Sweet Taco Tuesday,  _ Bucky prayed internally,  _ help me get through this without popping a boner. Please, for the love of coffee. Help me.  _

 

It was time for a distraction. Time to implement #2 on the  _ Talking To Your Crush  _ list. “So, Steve,” Bucky began as he poured the blend into the machine, “how do you feel about horseback riding? I mean, horses in general, am I right? Majestic creatures.” 

 

With every additional word that left Bucky’s mouth, he was more and more beginning to realize this so-called “no-fail flirt list” was likely aimed at young preteen girls. Ah shit. 

 

Steve, bless him, took the question with a straight face. Bucky saw a blonde head bob as the coffee began pouring into the cup.    
  


“I’ve never actually ridden a horse before, but I know you can ride them in Central Park. It looks like fun actually. Neat way to spend an afternoon, you know? Trying something new?” Steve shrugged a shoulder, nonchalant, but the sincere answer made Bucky’s blood buzz. Steve was forever the best of the best. It was now proven. 

 

“You like horses?” Steve was throwing the ball back and Bucky needed to focus. He didn’t generally give two shits about horses one way or another, but he also didn’t want to look like a lunatic for being the one to broach the subject with no context. Time to freestyle. 

 

“I  _ love  _ horses. If I wasn’t doing the shop thing all day, you know what my priority would be?”

 

“Horses?”

 

“Horses, Steve.” 

 

“Wow,” Steve had an impressed look on his face, and Bucky was on cloud nine. Steve was impressed. By  _ Bucky.  _ Eep!

 

“Maybe,” Steve was talking again, each word slow and deliberate, careful thought behind each letter, “I could have my coffee here today, and you can tell me more about your history with them? Horses, I mean. You seem really passionate about it. It’s rare to find that these days, people genuinely caring about something, you know?” He gestured to the small scattering of tables and chairs around the room. “Can I...?” 

 

The sentence trailed off and Bucky scrambled to close his gaping fish mouth. He nodded silently. ‘ _ Yes Steve, you can stay forever!’  _ His crazy lizard brain wanted to shout. The rational, non-lizard part of Bucky’s brain was frantically trying to recall if he had absorbed any horse related facts, ever. The truly practical, honest part of Bucky’s brain knew there was no winning here. Bucky knew shit about horses. 

 

Luckily, he still had to infuse the cream, the brewed coffee having been dispensed into the cup some time ago. 

 

“Grab a seat Steve!” Bucky called over his shoulder, before turning his back completely. He lifted the cream canister and poured slowly, injecting an easy-going type of feeling into the liquid. Hopefully the horse topic would roll off Steve like water off a duck’s back after this. Bucky felt a little stiff as he completed his murmurings, but it was worth it when he handed Steve the coffee and took a seat opposite him at the table closest to the window (a.k.a Bucky’s favourite seat), Steve taking a sip and letting out an appreciative groan as the coffee hit his tongue. 

 

“God Buck, this is delicious. Thank you. Also, I’ve been meaning to ask, why does your coffee shop have so few chairs?”

 

Bucky smiled across the table. This, he could talk about. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the amazing comments on the last chapter! I haven't replied yet because I decided to pump this out instead. Hope you enjoy!! <3 
> 
> Also here is your reminder that this is an Oblivious!Steve fic! ;)

 

 

“People,” Bucky began, “would not stop falling asleep here. We used to have nice couches and chairs, more tables, but I always had to kick half a dozen people out at the end of the day. Customers drooling all over the furniture gets old quickly, surprisingly enough.”

 

Bucky leaned back in his chair, grey eyes amused and intent, as if this sentence provided a logical answer to Steve’s question.

 

“But... it’s coffee. Isn’t that supposed to wake you up?” Steve must be missing something.

 

“We do tea too, Steve.” Bucky replied, as if this totally cleared things up.

 

This answer… was not an answer. Steve didn’t want to come across as a moron though, so he just bobbed his head and took another sip of his drink. Today’s coffee felt so good flowing along his tongue, he could almost see what Bucky meant. He wanted to curl up in a pile of fluff with a blanket and take a nap in a sunbeam. (And if a certain Russian barista wanted to get in on the snuggling, Steve was positive he could find room in his hypothetical pillow nest for two.)

 

“I see. So what about all the other stuff? Do you make everything here?” Steve gestured to the walls displaying an eclectic mix of products, soaps and candles and crystals mixed together, seemingly without any logical sorting system. Steve doubted that was actually the case though; everything was very neatly arranged and looked well cared for. It was more likely that the man in front of him knew the place of each individual item and had his own unrecognizable system in place. Organized chaos, or something.

 

His suspicions were confirmed as Bucky blushed and nodded.

 

“I don’t make the actual candles and things, Nat does that part, I just help with the infusing process. She’s the real artist behind everything, I can’t take credit for that. We’re a good team though, I think. Although just last week we realized we had to stop making the ‘ambitious’ soap, that one didn’t work out so well. I didn’t make anything else for three days after I tried to make a batch of that. I was also late for work twice because I didn’t want to get out of bed. It was my own fault really, I made that blend way too strong. I forget sometimes, how it works. Giving up a piece of yourself, you know?”

 

Steve, in fact, did not really know what Bucky was talking about, but he thought maybe he got the gist of it. “It’s like at the hospital. You give as much as you can, but it’s like you're hardly making a dent some days. You get to the point where you hit a wall and have to remember to look after you, because how can you care for other people if you don’t take care of yourself first. Something like that?”

 

Bucky’s eyes were soft and warm across the table, his voice gentle when he spoke. “Just like that.”

 

“I hope then,” Steve replied, equally soft, “that you have someone to look after you when days like that come up.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky was glad he was sitting down, because he was probably going to pass out from feelings or something soon. Steve had been keeping him company for the last hour, just Steve Rogers being Steve Rogers, as if was no big deal, him across the table, all earnest sincerity and warm-fuzzies and golden goodness, smiling with an understanding nod every time Bucky had to leave the table to help a new customer. Bucky was completely transfixed.

 

Steve’s aura was absolutely brilliant right now, the usual bursts of sea green and summer sky blue seeming to pop even more than usual, light filtering through the colours like the sun peeking through the rustling leaves of a tree, and Bucky was having a hard time clamping down on his inner eye to see beyond it. Steve was so full of life, it was almost overwhelming at times.

 

He was brought back from his daze when Steve’s aura crackled with fuschia suddenly, sparking even more to life, merriment and something else, something unidentifiable taking over the usual greens and blues. Bucky felt Steve give his hand a quick squeeze from where he had taken it on the table, likely to get Bucky’s attention (because Steve wouldn’t want to hold hands, not with _Bucky._ That would be _preposterous_ ). He glanced back to Steve’s eyes again and was met with a look of concerned amusement.

 

“You still with me Buck?” Blonde eyebrows were raised and blue irises were searching.

 

Bucky cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes. Right here.”

 

Steve’s smile was even bigger and warmer now, but the fuschia slowly dissipated as he leaned back into his chair, removing his hand from Bucky’s (a goddamn tragedy) and picking up his coffee cup. Somehow Steve had managed to nurse (ha, nurse) his cup of coffee to the point that it had taken the span of the hour to finish, and he was now realizing he was at the end. Bucky thought he saw a flash of disappointment cross Steve’s face, but he was probably just projecting. He didn’t really want Steve to leave ~~ever~~ yet.

 

“I guess that’s it then.” Steve’s lips were lopsided, an awkward frown, as he indicated to the empty cup. “I should probably get going anyway. The hospital is holding a fundraiser tonight, a silent auction, and I volunteered to help with the setup.”

 

Because of course he did. Because Steve Rogers was a certified saint.

 

“Ah, that’s very nice of you. I hope it goes well.” Bucky had been pretty damn smooth for the duration of the afternoon (following the pets and horses disaster), but his awkwardness was quickly creeping back in as things wound down. He didn’t know how to say goodbye to Steve, how to ask him to come back, or go to dinner, or adopt a dog and eighteen blonde babies together.

 

Bucky was a mess.

 

Steve was shuffling his feet, looking everywhere but Bucky, until he suddenly moving forward and wrapping Bucky up in an incredibly speedy and tight hug, a rush of “thank you for the coffee this was great I’ll be back again, thank you,” leaving his lips before he released Bucky, turned on a dime and left the shop, the little bell above the door scoring his hasty departure.

 

Bucky stood in the middle of his empty store and blinked.

 

Holy shit.

 

Steve had just hugged him.

 

Bucky was really getting the hang of this flirting thing.

 

Best. Day. Ever.

 

* * *

 

Steve was staring forlornly at his little plastic cup of champagne when Sam decided an intervention was in order.

 

“Jesus Steve, just ask the man out! This has to stop!”

 

“I blew it Sam! I got nervous and I panicked and I ruined it forever. I can’t just go back now, not after leaving things like that, all awkward and weird. I hugged and ran! How do you come back from that! What would I say?”

 

“Steve, it’s a coffee shop. Say ‘Hey, I’d like a coffee and also how about a date?’ It’s not that hard, man.”

 

Steve let out a overblown sigh and pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against. The fundraiser was in full swing, and Steve began wandering through the maze of tables aimlessly, his stupid puppy heart displayed for heaven and Earth on the sleeve of his suit jacket. Sam had seen shelter dogs with less sad eyes.

 

“I need something to make up for it, but I can’t be too obvious, I don’t want to scare him off.” Steve turned his head and looked down at the closest table suddenly, a smile taking over his face a moment later. He grabbed the pen from beside the bidding paper and scribbled down his name and an amount, looking like he had won the lottery in the process.

 

“Steve, what the fuck is that?”

 

Steve smiled and held up the paper describing the auction item he had just bid on: An afternoon of horseback riding for two. His grin was a mile wide. “Horses!”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I am THE WORST at replying to comments right now, but I promise I read every single one and they make me so unbelievably happy, so thank you so much! I don't really talk about real life on here, but I'm pregnant for the first time and am SO sick and tired lately, I basically go to work then come home to sleep/feel terrible. I'm hoping it passes soon, but in the meantime, here is a new chapter that I managed to pump out when my head wasn't over a toilet today. Cool! Thanks for sticking with me, you guys are the best!! <3

 

 

“...So, you see, the tickets just kind of fell into my lap, and I don’t have anyone to go with me, and then I thought,  _ ‘you know who likes horses? Bucky likes horses.’ _ So, here I am.” Steve swallowed the dryness in his throat as he looked across the counter at Bucky following his little speech.

 

It was a week after the auction, and Steve had finally gotten up the nerve to stop in again after work and take the biggest plunge of his life, finally asking the object of his affections out on a date. Ok, so the tickets hadn’t _exactly_ fallen into his lap, (they had cost him almost a third of his last paycheque) but Bucky didn’t really need to know that. It was more like the universe had set the tickets in front of him, and Steve had been smart enough to take advantage of the opportunity. It would be stupid to ignore an obvious sign from the universe, right? Right. So, here he was, horseback riding passess in hand, earnest expression on his face as he waited for the most handsome man he had ever seen (Steve was pretty sure Bucky was actually glowing a little bit right now, Jesus he was so beautiful) to accept his offer for a date. This was it, the moment of truth. 

 

* * *

Bucky was so fucking sweaty. He was pretty sure he was sweating through his t-shirt. Steve had come into the shop after his shift looking worn out yet content, albeit a little fidgety, and had then proceeded to blow Bucky’s mind by asking Bucky on a date. All of Bucky’s wildest dreams were coming true, and now Steve was looking at Bucky from across the counter and waiting for an answer, and oh my god, Bucky was going to die from happiness and regret, he had so many feelings and Steve was too perfect and holy shit horses. 

 

He nodded his head, voice creaky when he finally spoke. “Yah Steve, sounds great. See you Sunday.” 

 

Steve left the shop looking like he was walking on a cloud, and Bucky sank down to his familiar floor space behind the counter. 

 

He was so screwed. 

 

* * *

“I mean, it’s just horses, right? They’re like, I dunno, dogs, but you ride them. It’s not hard, right? I mean, no sweat. Horses.”

 

Natasha looked at the clock on the bedside table. 2:25 a.m. Fucking hell. She smushed her face back into the pillow, keeping her cellphone pressed to her ear. 

 

Her voice was surprisingly calm when she spoke. 

 

“James, you have a date today. I suggest you get some sleep. If you ever call me at this time again, there had better be a fire, flood, or armageddon taking place. Understood?”

 

Bucky’s voice was a desperate whisper in her ear before she hit the ‘end call’ button. “But Nat. Horses.”

 

* * *

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful, much to Bucky’s dismay. He had hoped for rain, or snow, or sleet, or something un-horsely to happen (hay shortages?) requiring the cancellation of their riding trip, and instead requiring him to bring Steve back to his place for some sort of soulmate Netflix and chill session. (A ‘soulmate’ N&C was like a regular N&C, but with undying confessions of love taking place between makeouts and snacks and episodes of Stranger Things.) 

 

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans, and had Bucky known a lick about horses, he would have bet today was a great horseback riding day. Fucking hell. 

 

He pulled on his favourite skinny jeans and leather jacket, because if he couldn’t actually ride like a pro, he was at least determined to look fine as hell, and locked the door to his apartment with a sigh and a smile. Today was going to be the best worst date ever.

 

* * *

 

Steve looked like a modernized, sexy lumberjack Brawny man today, Jesus Christ. 

 

Bucky stopped at the crest to the hill leading down to the horse area of the park, and took in the sight with wide eyes. Steve was rocking a red plaid shirt with dark jeans, and his beard, oh his beard, it was perfect and trimmed and was catching the sun in delicious ways, making it look even more golden in the early afternoon light. He was leaning oh-so-casually on a tree next to the entrance to the riding path, and Bucky had to will his feet not to leave the ground for a moment, lest he run down the hill and pin Steve to that lucky-ass tree with his lips until the end of time. That tree knew how Steve’s ass felt in those jeans. Mama Mia.

 

Body back under his control for the moment, Bucky started making his way towards his date, the rest of the world momentarily forgotten as those summer blue eyes met his. Steve’s smile widened and he started across the grass to meet Bucky halfway, reaching out a hand and pulling Bucky towards him once they were close enough. 

 

This was Bucky’s second Steve Hug, and it was even longer and better than the first one. Steve smelled like soap and spice and cool breezes today, and Bucky couldn’t help but tuck his nose into Steve’s neck for a lingering moment. Gah, he had it bad. 

 

Steve finally (regretfully) released Bucky’s body, but his hand remained delightfully cozy in Steve’s as they started towards the entrance together. 

 

“Ready for a good day?” Steve was all bright smiles and sunny eyes and Bucky was absolutely mesmerized, eyes literally unable to leave Steve’s beautiful face. He was so mesmerized, in fact, that he didn’t see the metal post in front of him until it was too late. 

 

* * *

 

Bucky came to in the little office next to the stables, a bloody nose and a massive headache reminding him that no, sadly, this was not a dream. Steve was crouched down in front of the chair he was sitting in, (had Steve picked him up and carried him here? Of all the moments to be unconscious for), a concerned look on his face, but it slowly morphed into a quiet smile when Bucky’s eyes focused on his. 

 

Steve’s voice was low and soft when he spoke, and Bucky wanted to wrap himself in it. 

 

“Hey, there he is. How’re you feeling?” Steve was shining a tiny penlight into his eyes and it was making Bucky see stars. 

 

Bucky blinked a couple times. “I don’t like horses Steve.”

 

Steve’s smile grew even wider. “You know, come to think of it Buck, I don’t think I like them much either. How about we get you home, huh?” 

 

Bucky nodded. That sounded like an A+ idea. Steve was so smart. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect some minor hurt/comfort for the next chapter! Nurse Steve taking care of our possibly concussed Bucky? Yes pleaseee.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dr. Frankenstein voice* I'm ALIIIIVE! ...Although sometimes it doesn't 100% feel that way. I'm so, so sorry for the delay, I've still been very sick and tired and writing is hard when you feel like throwing up 24/7. My guilt finally got the best of me, so here is a very tiny chapter, just to give you something new, until I can kick this nausea. Thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments and your concern for where I've been, I completely promise I will never abandon a fic, so just bear with me for now as I try to get over this baby-growing hurdle. It will not last forever! (Thank god!) Love you all and sorry if this sucks, I tried my best! <3

 

 

Steve’s arm was around Bucky, holding him close to his side as they moved into Bucky’s apartment together, and Bucky was 100% convinced he had died and gone to heaven. 

 

“I don’t think you have a concussion, so you’re ok to fall asleep if you need to.” Steve was speaking quietly as he gently lowered Bucky onto the couch, helping him slip out of his jacket and put his feet up on the end. Suddenly Steve was kneeling at his side on the floor, his face inches away from Bucky’s, one hand reaching up to brush a few stray strands of hair from his brow. Bucky’s eyes couldn’t help but flutter closed at the contact. As much as he was embarrassed over what had happened today, he couldn’t deny this was a pretty wonderful way to spend an afternoon.

 

“You’re not feeling dizzy, nauseous, anything like that? You know where we are right now?”

 

Bucky couldn’t help the small smile that touched his lips at Steve’s concern. Nurse Steve was adorable. 

 

“I’m fine Steve, promise.” 

 

“I know, but still, you must be tired at least…” Steve trailed off before he stood quickly, glancing around the rest of the apartment. “Do you have an ice pack or anything? I think you’re going to end up with a goose egg either way, but it’ll help a bit.” 

 

Bucky nodded, eyes slipping closed again momentarily on their own accord. He  _ was  _ tired, but Steve didn’t need to know that it was from an almost sleepless night of date-day panic, and not from his heroic horseback riding injury. (No one AT ALL (except Steve, unfortunately) needed to know he didn’t even get within touching distance of a horse. He would remain a legend for the ages this way.) “It’s in the freezer.”

 

Steve returned a few moments later with two glasses of water and the ice pack wrapped in a dishtowel, setting the drinks on the coffee table and plopping down comfortably on the other end of the couch, as if he had been there a million times before. Steve looked good on his furniture, Bucky decided. It was a slightly superfluous observation, considering he thought Steve looked good just about everywhere, but still. Steve, on his couch. Did life get better?

 

It turns out, in fact, it did. Steve was currently attempting a leaning-over type movement to put the ice on Bucky’s head, but Bucky’s legs were long and getting in the way of Steve getting any closer. Thankfully Steve, ever the problem solver, seemed to have a solution. 

 

“You know what,” he started, grabbing a throw pillow from the side of the couch and setting it in his lap, “turn around and put your head here so you can stretch out properly.”

 

Bucky felt all the saliva drain from his mouth, which was a shame, because dry kisses were not so good. Neither were overly wet kisses, but that train of thought was for another time. Right now, Steve was telling Bucky to put his head in his lap. For free. Amazing. 

 

He took a sip of water (damp mouth again, his kisses were going to be THE BOMB now) before quickly adjusting himself on the couch to have his head in the requested position. Steve was so close now, radiating heat and sunshine and doting affection, and Bucky was ready to slip away into the next life because he had done it, he had achieved his dream of Dreamboat Rogers on his couch. Mission successful. He let out a happy sigh and burrowed a little deeper into the pillow. “This ok?”

 

Steve smoothed Bucky’s hair away from his forehead again before gently setting the ice pack in place, holding it gently to heroically troubled flesh. “Yah Buck.” He cleared his throat. “You good?”

 

“Mmmmm.” Bucky’s affirmation was more of a noise than an answer, and he could feel his eyes slipping shut yet again, heavier than before, which wasn’t good because kisses had not even been had yet, not dry nor wet nor normal ones, but he could hear Steve turning the TV on quietly in the background and the start of a Stranger Things episode begin to play, so really, this hadn’t been such a bad date after all. 

 

Bucky fell asleep with a smile on his face and the question of what Steve’s mouth tasted like on his mind. 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear friends! I am alive and well and sincerely apologize for taking such a long hiatus on this fic! Pregnancy kicked my ass, but I now have a cute little 2 month old, so am only severely tired now, instead of being severely sick and tired (#winning). Thank you for your patience, I can't promise any regular update schedule/chapter length at the moment, but this fic WILL be completed, I promise it is not abandoned. I'll pop a quick summary at the top to remind you where we're at, plot-wise, if you remember feel free to pass it to get to the main story! <3

**A very quick, poorly composed recap:**  Bucky owns The Taming of the Brew, a magical-ish coffee/whatever (?) shop that specializes in providing products with certain intentions. Bucky is able to infuse small items, like drinks, candles, soaps etc with certain feelings or ambitions, however this drains him of whatever essence he is providing. For example, if he were making a 'happy' coffee, he would feel less joyful after making it, with the ratio of depletion depending on how much he chooses to give. He also has a bit of a '3rd eye' going on, when he decides to take a look, and can garner small facts and feelings from people's... Auras, we'll say. (Just, go with me guys. I'm trying lol)

Steve, an adorable, oblivious nurse, doesn't realize the purpose of the shop, he only knows the owner is the most awkwardly endearing person ever. Cue lots of horrible flirting and a horseback riding date that ends with Bucky knocking himself out on a pole, and Steve letting him take a little snooze on his lap. This chapter picks up on the following day. 

**This ends the quick, poorly composed recap. Thank you. *does a shitty curtsey***

 

* * *

 

 

“...James. JAMES!”

 

Bucky’s head shot up from where he was resting it on his fist, elbow leaning on the counter as he stared off into space.

 

“Daydreaming?” Natasha raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow.

 

“More like dream  _daying_ , Natasha, if you must know.” Bucky attempted to scowl in her direction, but there was no heat to it. He was too happy.

 

“Pretty sure that’s not a thing James. Now stop being so spacey and do some work.”

 

“Nat, this is my store, and I’m busy supervising right now, in case you didn’t notice. You’re being supervised as we speak. Wanna hear about my date with Steve?”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Not really, I mean you’ve already told-”

 

“It was a beautiful day in the park,” Bucky began for the 4th time that day, much to Natasha’s dismay. “I was looking fine as hell, but Steve, boy oh boy, was he a treat Nat. Handsome. Charming. I could tell as the date began that he was looking rather heroic as well. Little did I know, he would soon come to my rescue in a daring horse accident. Steve-”

 

“-Is coming through the door in 5, 4, 3…” Natasha cut back in and yes, Steve was opening the door of the shop and his face was lighting up and Bucky was becoming a puddle, knees and ankles and toes turned to jelly from one glimpse of those bright eyes and that flash of a smile. Steve was smiling, because of _him._ Bucky could scarcely believe it.

 

“Hey Buck.” Steve looked like he was trying to tamp down the grin that was overtaking his face, but was having a hard time reigning it in. Bucky thought he probably had a very similar look on his own face, if Natasha’s second, even more dramatic eyeroll was anything to go by. (Bucky was going to be concerned for her ocular health soon if she kept this up.)

 

“Hey Steve.” Bucky absolutely did not bat his eyelashes like a fairytale maiden. Not at all.

 

“I just wanted to drop by and apologize for leaving without saying a proper goodbye last night, you were pretty sleepy when I left and I didn't want to keep you awake any longer than necessary.”

 

Steve had been the definition of a gentleman the evening before, letting Bucky nap on his lap for a few hours before gently carding his hand through Bucky's hair with a whispered apology about having to get going. He had literally tucked Bucky into his bed, equipped with a glass of water and a fuzzy blanket before quietly seeing himself out as Bucky drifted back to sleep. He didn't even try to initiate any funny business in Bucky's swimsuit area (which Bucky would have been totally down for) when Bucky was all soft and sleep-pliant. And now he was coming in here apologizing and using words like ‘sleepy.’ Once again, Steve Rogers: Gentleman.

 

“Wellllll,” Bucky drew out the word just to see Steve squirm adorably for a moment. “I suppose you'll have to make it up to me somehow.” He threw on his best sexy smirk and leaned across the counter seductively. Bucky could be very seductive when he put his mind to it.

 

Natasha, who Bucky had completely forgotten about, sighed and went into the back room. Oh good. Now it would really be game on. Time to flirt like a master. He wanted to see Steve get all hot and bothered by his mad romance skills.

 

Except that Steve, likely emboldened after Natasha’s departure, damn him, apparently had his own toolbox of seductive tricks. He leaned across the counter and smirked right back at Bucky, in close enough proximity that Bucky could feel his breath, his sexy mint breath, ghost across his lips. Guh.

 

“And how exactly would I go about doing that?” Steve was so close that Bucky could tilt his head up and press their lips together if he chose to, which meant any equally sexy comeback absolutely fled from his brain, overwhelmed with possibility.

 

Bucky, not unlike one of those terrifying bass animatronics, let his mouth open and close a few times, with nothing coherent coming out. It was as if his fish-operating batteries were dying. Steve, bless him, quickly saved Bucky from his own ineptitude.

 

“How about,” he suggested, once he seemed confident that Bucky was indeed not going to answer, “we do something a little less physical for our next date?”

 

“Steve, if you're referring to our head to crotch contact during the nap, I'll have you know my swimsuit area remains untouched. Yours too. There was a pillow…” Bucky trailed off as Steve's face turned the deepest shade of red he had ever witnessed on human skin. Bucky, thankfully, finally caught on. “You were referring to the horseback riding, weren't you?”

 

Steve did a weird strangle/cough thing before replying. “Yah Bucky, I meant the horses.”

 

“Ah. Well.” Bucky swallowed. “What did you have in mind?”

 

* * *

 

Two days later Bucky found himself on date number two with Steve Rogers at Coney Island.  

It was not less physical. At all. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another new chapter, for making you wait 6 months for an update! Make sure you read chapter 8 first, which went up late last night, in case you missed it! Thanks for all the comments and congratulations so far, you guys are too kind!

Steve hated to admit it, but as his body was being pressed tightly against Bucky’s as they sat together in the carriage of the Wonder Wheel, Bucky’s breath coming out in erratic little pants, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, Steve couldn’t help but think of his date’s… swimsuit area, as Bucky has so lovingly called it. Not an ideal time, especially considering it appeared Bucky was on the verge of some sort of panic attack.

 

* * *

 

The day had started out beautifully. 

 

Steve had felt a smidge of pride as he had pulled up outside Bucky’s place earlier in the day, the lines of his motorcycle grinning wickedly in the sun as he parked on the street and waited for Bucky to come down. He had already confirmed with Bucky that he would be comfortable on the back of a bike for a trip to Coney Island, but hearing about it and seeing it were two different things, Steve supposed. Bucky had practically floated down the steps and onto the sidewalk as he took in Steve and the motorcycle, and Steve couldn’t help the burst of warmth he felt to have Bucky look at him like that. Like Steve was someone special, someone desirable. It felt good. 

 

Things had only gotten better from there, with Bucky’s cheeks pinking up as Steve adjusted the strap on his spare helmet just so, his fingertips taking the opportunity to whisper across Bucky’s cheekbones before they set off together, Bucky’s body warm and solid behind him on the bike. Steve had felt Bucky’s exhilarated gasp as he accelerated, could feel Bucky’s nose tucking into the back of his neck, could feel Bucky’s hands gripping his waist a little tighter than necessary on turns, trusting in Steve, but also new to the feeling of traveling so freely. Steve could have driven across the country just to keep those sensations from ever leaving. 

 

Arriving at their destination had been worth it though. Bucky’s eyes had lit up at the sight of the midway, boyish excitement rippling through him as he literally bounced on his toes in anticipation as Steve locked the helmets to the bike. 

 

The warmth in Steve’s belly continued to grow as even more sides of Bucky’s curious personality were displayed. He was incredibly playful but dead-set on winning when it came to carnival games, his knack for finding the ball under the right cup, or his dart hitting the correct target almost uncanny. If Steve didn’t know any better he’d have thought Bucky was somehow cheating, and from the faces of the vendors as they handed over their stupidly massive stuffed prizes, they also seemed to think so. Bucky was as genuine as the day was long though, no apparent tricks up his sleeve, if you discounted his little whispers as he aimed for targets, or his scrutinizing gaze at the booth runner as they attempted their shady sleight of hand. Steve chalked it up to focusing techniques and a general dislike of what were essentially con artists. Not a big deal. 

 

What was a bit of a bigger deal though, was the way Steve’s heart had stuttered in his chest as Bucky had knelt down in front of a little girl on the boardwalk later, transferring his horde of prizes into her tiny arms like it was nothing at all. 

 

“Couldn’t fit them all on the bike anyways,” Bucky had mumbled after, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. Steve thought the real reason was a little sweeter than that, but kept his big mouth shut for once. 

 

They were closing out the night on the Wonder Wheel, a dusky purple sky edging into twilight as they inched closer and closer to the stars, Steve’s heart thundering louder in his chest the higher they climbed, as Bucky kept moving tighter against him with each breath. 

 

This was it. Time to make a move. 

 

Steve pulled his gaze away from the skyline and turned towards Bucky, body curving in his seat to welcome Bucky closer to him, close enough to-

 

“Buck, what’s wrong?” Steve was leaning in for a different reason now, hands coming up to cup Bucky’s face, thumbs brushing a few strands of now sweaty hair out of his eyes. 

 

“Oh you know…” Bucky let out a sound that was attempting to be a chuckle, but was more of a whimper in disguise. “Not a big fan of heights I guess.” 

 

“Jesus Bucky, are you ok? We didn’t have to do this…” Steve moved one arm down to take Bucky’s hand in his, the other man immediately gripping it like a lifeline. He kept up stroking Bucky’s jawline and cheekbone with his other hand, Bucky’s eyelids fluttering at the contact. Bucky cracked one eye open slightly to look at Steve finally, scooching that final inch to be tight against Steve’s side, and Steve couldn’t help the breath that caught in his throat.  

 

Bucky was so fucking beautiful, and afraid, and now was absolutely not the time to think about how their bodies felt pressed together like this. 

 

“Just keep your eyes on me, ok? Don’t look down.” 

 

Bucky nodded and met Steve’s gaze fully, the clarity of his grey eyes not hindered by fear in the slightest. Bucky licked his lips, and Steve was officially a goner. 

 

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice was breathy now, almost a whisper, “it might help me forget about the height if-” 

 

Steve was already nodding and leaning in, meeting Bucky in the middle as their mouths finally met, Bucky’s lips soft and pliant and delicious, sweet as the cotton candy he had insisted on buying before shoving half in his mouth in one go, cheeks bulging out like a chipmunk as he waited for the sticky sugar to rapidly dissolve. It was the cutest fucking thing Steve had ever seen, and his fevour to lick into that candy-coated mouth only increased with the memory. 

 

Bucky’s willing mouth welcomed him easily, his little pants of anxiousness dissolving into something else, something that was making it difficult for Steve to hold back a moan. A small noise ripped its way out of his throat regardless, and Bucky was suddenly clutching tighter, breathing deeper and - 

 

“Hello!” 

 

Steve jerked his head up to see the teenage ride attendant looking at them with an amused but slightly impatient expression. 

 

“If you would please exit the car now sirs.”

 

Steve looked guiltily to Bucky, whose face was screwed up inscrutably. “Sirs? How old do you think we-”

 

“Thank you, we’ll be going now!” Steve interrupted cheerily, towing Bucky out of the ride by his still-held hand. 

 

“Sirs,” Bucky huffed, looking back at the teenager. “He called us sirs.” 

 

“Bucky,” Steve drew his attention back by slowly licking his way into that outraged mouth. “I really don’t give a shit.”

 

Bucky's lips curved up into a smile as they finally parted. 

 

“Yah,” Bucky replied dreamily, pink lips parting again in anticipation of another kiss. “Me neither.”

 

* * *

All in all, it had been the best date of Steve's life.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so slow to update! Hope you enjoy the fluff!!

 

 

Bucky wouldn't say that he spent a majority of his time these days draped across the counter at his shop, but the fact that he was currently draped across the counter of his shop said otherwise.

 

It was a good counter though, dependable despite that one leaning incident. It deserved a drape or two.

 

Bucky was draping because he was waiting for Steve, and waiting for Steve basically required draping, by law of Bucky's schmoopy heart and knees. (Both got weak when Steve was on the brain.)

 

It had been a month since their Coney Island date, their _first kiss,_ and Steve had invited Bucky to spend the weekend at his place, the _weekend,_ because Steve was the best kind of dope for celebrating the one month anniversary of a first kiss.

 

They hadn't said the word ‘boyfriend' in relation to one another yet, but if this weekend didn't secure Bucky's spot as Steve's boyfriend, and vice versa, Bucky would eat his hat. Bucky would have to buy a hat to eat first, because his majestic hair refused to be contained in any such head vessel, but still. He would buy a hat, then eat it.

 

Steve Rogers, True Gentleman, had been taking things slow, which Bucky found was extremely endearing and romantic, while also highly sexually frustrating. Steve was an old soul though, as glimpsed through not only his actions, but through Bucky's peeks into his aura, his blues and greens flecked with the golds and good intentions of a time gone by.  

 

His little weekend bag tickled his ankle as it waited patiently on the floor beside him, and Bucky ceased draping for a moment to lean down and give it a tiny pat. It was a good bag, and deserved as much love as the counter did. He also had a bag of coffee beans ready to go at the side, which Bucky had infused the night before with the deep contentment he felt whenever Steve was around. He didn't want to risk being in a bad mood by waiting until the morning to infuse them with his happiness. Steve Rogers deserved better than a bad mood Bucky Barnes, but Bucky suspected Steve would be just as warm and kind regardless.

 

The bell chimed and Steve walked in and the counter did its job, holding Bucky up as his knees jiggled. His bag was not as fortunate, swooning over onto its side as Steve entered the shop in all his tight t-shirt glory. And glory be indeed. Bucky wanted to bury his face in that chest and never come out.

 

“Hey Buck, ready to go?” Steve smiled as he leaned across the counter and brushed his lips across Bucky's before placing a light kiss on them.

 

“Mmmhmmm.” Bucky replied inarticulately, but which Steve thankfully took for the yes it was, coming around the counter to grab his now-recovered bag in one hand and Bucky's hand in the other.

 

Steve released his grip outside so Bucky could lock up, making small talk about their days as Steve stashed Bucky's bag on his motorcycle. Before Bucky knew it he was wrapped around Steve's back, Steve guiding the motorcycle expertly down the street in the direction of home.

 

* * *

 

Bucky had been to Steve's place exactly once, and had only been inside the entryway long enough for Steve to fetch his coat before they had headed out to a baseball game together a few weeks prior. Bucky had been able to garner that Steve had a well organized front closet and exactly nine pairs of shoes (three dress, three casual, two motorcycle boots, and a pair of runners) in his time on the inside, but that had been about it in his limited moment within Casa Steve. Now he was getting a _whole weekend_ to look, and look he would. Bucky was not a snoop, but it was basically a crime to ignore a medicine cabinet or two behind a closed bathroom door.

 

Steve lived in an adorable little walk up, a tiny but lovingly tended to garden out front. Steve held open the door, of course, and then all of Bucky's dreams were coming true, he was in Steve's house. Where Steve got naked on the regular. Guhhh.

 

Bucky was given the short tour of the compact but cozy apartment, Bucky resisting the urge to jump with joy when he saw there was only the one bedroom and not a guest room in sight. He had assumed he and Steve would be sharing a bed, but the visual confirmation that there was no other option besides the couch made his heart pound gleefully. Bucky was an amazing cuddler and was looking forward to showing off his skills to his soon-to-be boyfriend. If other activities besides cuddling happened to take place there too though, Bucky wouldn't complain. 

 

The tour concluded in the kitchen, where Steve offered Bucky a blush and a homemade chocolate chip cookie, Bucky accepting with a kiss to Steve's pink cheek, which only turned pinker at the contact.

 

“So I was thinking tonight we could just do pizza, and then tomorrow I'll cook dinner,” Steve was saying, and Bucky was nodding, but also inspecting, since he was in the land of fantasies now.

 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Bucky stated suddenly with an unhealthy amount of eye contact.

 

Steve raised his eyebrows but smiled, showing Bucky the way once again, as if Bucky had forgotten the tour that had ended fifteen seconds ago. (Bucky would never forget something this important.)

 

He closed the bathroom door and immediately went to the treasure box that was the medicine cabinet. His moment had come.

 

Steve smelled good always, and Bucky's investigating soon discovered this was due to the use of an organic goat's milk soap and some sort of hipster beard conditioner. Steve used an electric toothbrush and cavity fighting toothpaste. Steve had a little pot of moisturizer with added sunscreen, and two fine tooth combs, likely for hair and beard purposes. Steve used deodorant and aftershave, and had one of those classic shaving kits, with a little brush and pot for lathering up.

 

Bucky had the entire contents of Steve's medicine cabinet spread out on the countertop when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

 

_Fuck._

 

“Bucky, are you ok? You've been in there for twenty minutes. The pizzas are here.”

 

_Double fuck._

 

“Uhh, yah, I'm good Steve. I just, uh. Needed a bandaid. I have a… paper cut.”

 

“Oh.” Steve disappeared for a minute and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief but then the doorknob was turning and Steve was walking in with a bandaid and Steve's stuff was still all out on the counter and Bucky was so screwed.

 

Steve's perfect eyebrows almost met his hairline, but he schooled his face into a neutral expression as he took in Bucky's predicament.

 

“A paper cut, huh?” Steve questioned with an amused quirk of his lips. “You were right to check under all my stuff. Could have been a box of them hiding in there somewhere.”

 

Steve was such a troll.

 

“Steve. I'll have you know the blood loss from the paper cut-”

 

“The paper cut,” Steve smirked.

 

“Yes, the paper cut, Steven. The blood loss was making me delirious. So thank you for the band aid.”

 

“Right. Which finger?” Steve asked with a barely contained laugh.

 

“This one.” Bucky stuck his middle finger in the air, because yah, fuck Steve for interrupting Bucky's legitimate Learn About Steve time, and Steve gave a warm laugh then, leaning forward to kiss Bucky's extended finger before carefully applying the bandaid to a non-existent cut, turning on his heel to exit the bathroom a moment later.

 

“Put my stuff back!” He yelled from the kitchen, “I'm eating pizza!”

 

Bucky grinned. This was gonna be a good weekend.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's literally been a year since I started this so I'm SO SORRY it's taking forever, that's less than a chapter a month at this rate! Kudos to YOU for sticking with this if you're still here, because this update rate is unacceptable imo, but life is life. Thank you times infinity for your patience!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short and all fluff but hopefully the fluff level makes up for the shortness?? Xoxo

 

 

Bucky Barnes was carefully constructing a blanket nest on Steve's couch, and Steve almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn't just an elaborately cozy fever dream.

 

Bucky was peering at his handiwork critically, his hands on his slim skinny-jean encased hips, a frown tugging at his pouty lips.

 

“Do you have more pillows?” Grey eyes were pointed towards Steve now and Steve nodded, fetching the ones from his bed to assist in building Bucky's masterpiece.

 

Bucky accepted the pillows with a murmured thanks before arranging them carefully on the couch, finally stepping back with a pleased smile and a nod.

 

Steve was starting to learn that Bucky did everything carefully, from fluffing pillows to washing up pizza plates to holding Steve's hand. It was incredibly endearing to observe, and Bucky was so kind and liberal with his level of care that Steve assumed he thanked the sidewalk for its service as he stepped outside every day. Steve had never met anyone like him before, and doubted he would meet anyone like him again.

 

Bucky was unapologetically tactile was well, as evidenced from where he was making grabby hands at Steve from his place in the nest, Steve still standing in the middle of the living room like a moron.

 

Steve gave in and plopped down beside him, Bucky immediately wrapping himself around Steve and snuggling up adorably. He pulled one of the five blankets he had produced from somewhere in Steve's apartment across them, and started the movie he had cued up on screen.

 

Steve supposed some people may find Bucky's general disregard for proper houseguest etiquette rude, but Steve only found it to be one more adorably fascinating aspect of Bucky's personality. Steve had nothing to hide, and if he could indulge Bucky's harmless and obviously enjoyed habit of snooping in all his closets and cabinets, why not? Bucky's curiosity was limitless, and Steve liked watching him explore, opening Steve's silverware drawer like it held the secrets to the universe once he had been given permission to look at anything he wished. Bucky took the sentiment of ‘make yourself at home’ to heart, and it pleased Steve to no end.

 

Now that they had eaten their pizza and Bucky had opened every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen, a sophisticated ‘hrmm' being murmured with every plate and cup examined, it was evidently time to cuddle, Bucky mushing into Steve like it was his job.

 

“Barnacle Barnes.”

 

Bucky lifted his head from Steve's lap, where Steve had been carding his fingers through the long strands. “What?”

 

“That should be your pet name. Barnacle Barnes. Because you stick-”

 

“I know what a barnacle is, Steve,” Bucky huffed, an offended prince on his squishy couch throne. “You will not be calling me a barnacle. ни за что. ”

 

“I haven't had time to learn Russian with you clamoring all over me,” Steve joked, poking Bucky in the ribs and causing him to blush beautifully.

 

“ _No way_.” Bucky translated.

 

“Alright, I'll think of something better then,” Steve conceded, pulling the blankets back up around them.

 

“You better,” Bucky grumped, attempting his best scowl, although a laugh was lurking at the edges of it.

 

Steve kissed him until Bucky couldn't help but smile.

 

* * *

 

The end credits of the movie were playing, and Bucky carefully extracted himself from under Steve's arm to turn the television off. Steve had been asleep for the last half-hour of the movie, his day at the hospital obviously wearing him out.

 

Bucky stroked Steve's fuzzy cheek lightly, causing the sleeping man to shift on the couch and let out a deeply satisfying “ _mmm_.” Put that on a graham cracker and grab your marshmallow, because that noise was better than chocolate.

 

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, “let's go to bed.”

 

Steve cracked his eyes open and nodded with a sleepy smile, leading Bucky to the bedroom with a warm hand around his wrist.

 

They completed their bathroom routines efficiently and were soon climbing into bed beside one another, Steve sleeping in his boxers and nothing else, while Bucky considered sleeping in a coffin (because Steve's body would obviously be the death of him), but ultimately deciding on his plaid sleep pants and no shirt as well.

 

Bucky did his best not to ogle Steve's chest immediately, instead turning his attention to the sheets first. They were navy blue and incredibly soft, smelling of Steve's laundry detergent, but surprisingly, not Steve.

 

“Did you buy new sheets for me?” Bucky couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face at the thought, and Steve shifted on his side of the bed for a moment before answering.

 

“Are you really gonna analyze everything in my house?” Steve deflected with a blush. He was so busted.

 

“You bought new sheets for me!” Bucky exclaimed as Steve pulled him close and snuggled into him, already halfway asleep again.

 

“‘Course I bought new sheets for you Buck,” Steve murmured into the top of Bucky's head sleepily. “You’re my boyfriend.”

 

Bucky felt as though his face was going to crack open with the width of his smile, and he turned in bed to face Steve only to find he had already fallen back asleep, his mouth open slightly in relaxation.

 

Bucky's smile softened as he gently kissed Steve on the nose, whispering goodnight as not to wake his boyfriend.

 

He then proceeded to ogle Steve's chest for five minutes before slipping off to sleep himself, because Bucky was only human.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Canada Day long weekend to my fellow country-people!! I'll also be celebrating on the 4th of July this year, but that's because it's our dear Stevie's 100th birthday! They grow up so fast :') (There will be a red, white and blue cake involved at my house, I guarantee it.)  
> Regardless of where you are or what you celebrate, have a good weekend friends and enjoy the fluff! Xoxo <3

 

 

Steve woke up to a face full of hair, dark and springy and alive with volume and early morning bliss.  

 

It was the most spectacular bedhead he had ever witnessed, and it was attached to Bucky Barnes, his boyfriend.

 

Steve inched closer and pulled Bucky even further into his arms, Bucky murmuring out a sleepy Russian complaint as he was gently manhandled.

 

Steve glanced at the bedside clock (6a.m, good enough), and brushed some of the untamable hair back from Bucky's neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin as he  revealed it.

 

Bucky let out a deep exhale, coming to life under Steve's hands.

 

“Morning,” Steve whispered, not wanting to break the tender feeling in the room that had wrapped around them.

 

“Too… early.” Bucky muttered pitifully from his blanket cocoon.

 

“You own a coffee shop.” Steve poked Bucky's ribs and got a squirm for his efforts. “How are you not a morning person?”

 

Bucky raised his head finally and opened his eyes an inch. “Magic,” was the sleepy reply, one hand leaving the blanket folds to flutter through the air theatrically.    

 

Steve snorted a laugh and buried his face in Bucky's neck. “Make me coffeeeee!” He whined dramatically. “Then we'll go for a run.”  

 

That had Bucky bolting up in bed, brows somehow simultaneously arched and furrowed. “нет,” he scowled. “точно нет.”

 

“Does that mean, ‘yes, sounds great Steve?’” Steve asked with a too-big smile.

 

 _“No, absolutely not,”_ Bucky translated, his face in full grumpy-cat mode. “I'm not leaving this bed until it's fully light outside.”

 

“But I made plans for us!” Steve persisted.

 

“Oh my God!” Bucky cried out, horrified and completely awake now. “ _You're_ a morning person! How could you do this to me Steve? I thought I knew you, and now this happens, the grand reveal! Such betrayal!” Bucky shook his fist melodramatically.

 

Steve nodded along as if Bucky was telling him the weather and not completing an over the top, poorly acted monologue. “Technically, I'm an ‘all the time’ person, not just a morning person,” he said with a wink. “I am a nurse after all. Sickness doesn't sleep.”

 

“Sickness doesn't… ugh. I hate you. Show me to your coffee maker.”

 

Steve grinned and led the way.

 

* * *

 

It was 9a.m and Bucky had a foam Statue of Liberty crown on his head, Lady Liberty herself in front of them as they leaned against the rail of the ferry.

 

Steve had been kidding about the run thankfully, choosing to take the day off from exercise because of Bucky's presence, but he hasn't been joking about having made plans.

 

There was a schedule.

 

It was laminated.

 

“Where did you get a laminator?” Bucky asked, tucking his copy of the itinerary back into his pocket after examining it for the twelfth time. He was intrigued by some of Steve's choices, in particular the 8 o’clock spot which just said ‘ _Romance_ ’ (with a capital ‘R’).  

 

“I borrowed the one at work,” Steve shrugged.

 

“Steve,” Bucky admonished, pushing his crown back into place on his head. “I do not pay taxes so you can laminate Date Day schedules at the hospital. I'm going to have to write a letter to my Congress person.”

 

“And who would that be?”

 

Bucky paused. “We won't get to every item on the schedule if you keep asking questions!”

 

“Riiight.” Steve fished his own schedule out of his pocket and peered at it, his blue eyes squinting more dramatically than Bucky considered entirely necessary. “It says it’s time for a kiss.”

 

“It does not!” Bucky argued, but he didn't object as Steve wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in close, Bucky's crown bumping Steve's forehead playfully as their lips met under the rays of the morning sun.

 

* * *

 

They strolled the Brooklyn bridge that afternoon and ate street meat, Bucky making a gesture with his shish kebab that caused him to almost choke, but had Steve turning at least twenty new shades of pink, so it was well worth it.

 

By the end of their day out, Bucky had ended up with a new ‘I ❤ NY’ magnet for his fridge and a little light up torch to go with his crown.

 

“I've never been a tourist in my own city before,” he bumped shoulders with Steve as they rode the elevator back up to Steve's apartment that evening. “I liked it.”

 

Steve's smile was soft and affectionate at the declaration, and Bucky took advantage of their close proximity to open his eyes a little wider, to see the bursts of colour Steve's aura had been emitting all day.

 

Steve's aura was normally blues and greens, bright and fresh like ocean water and sea glass, but it crackled with fuchsia now, vivid and electric, as Bucky reached over to lace their hands together.

 

He kept his eyes open as he leaned into a kiss, the fuchsia shining and dancing with the more intimate contact.

 

They broke the kiss as the elevator reached their floor, Steve’s expression painted with pure delight and warmth as he met Bucky's eyes. “Dinner, and then Romance.” Steve breathed as he led Bucky down the hall to his door.

 

“Romance with a capital R?” Bucky smiled.

 

Steve's answering smile was sinful, the fuchsia surrounding him now bold and unapologetic.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky insisted on doing the dishes while Steve puttered around the kitchen after dinner, his very classy meal of steak, risotto, and asparagus sitting nicely in Bucky's belly. He didn't suspect Steve had his own ‘infusing’ abilities, but he could almost swear that his delicious dinner had been prepared with love.

 

Bucky was warm and comfortably full and watching Steve with interest as he hovered around the kitchen, checking his wristwatch with what he likely hoped were discreet glances. Bucky was not as easily flustered as he had been when Steve has first entered his life, but charming little notions like Steve wearing an analogue watch were still enough to make his chest squeeze tight. Steve was just so goddamn perfect, Bucky could scarcely believe he was his _._

 

Steve glanced up from his watch to catch Bucky staring, and Bucky, feeling bold and safe and so, so attracted right now, didn't look away.

 

They held their connected gaze for a long moment, Steve's eyes seeming to shift from their usual cornflower blue to the inky navy of a midnight sky as each second passed.

 

Steve finally broke their eye contact after a heated minute, glancing down one last time to his watch. “Thank God,” he whispered to the room before striding forward and capturing Bucky's lips in his, the kiss exhilarating and captivating and demanding in the best way possible.

 

Bucky opened his mouth to let him in and ran a hand through Steve's hair, soap suds be damned, because finally, _finally,_ this was it.

 

It was time for 8 o’clock Romance.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it doesn't seem weird that Steve 'scheduled' their smut, I like to think he was just building anticipation. He is 'the star spangled man with a plan' though!! (And a hospital laminator at his disposal.) 
> 
> Rating will chickity-chickity-change next chapter, say whattt??! :O *scratches record badly*


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! I'll explain my absence in the bottom note if you care about that kind of stuff! For now, chapter 13! Trigger warnings for mentions of harassment and a related injury.

 

 

Bucky moaned as Steve worked another finger into him, the competing sensations of pleasure and pain making his body thrum with the anticipation of what was to come. 

 

Steve had been teasing him open for what felt like ages now, his body golden and glowing above him, a thin sheen of sweat making his shoulders and chest look almost otherworldly. Bucky wasn't sure what was more distracting; Watching Steve's face as he tried to keep himself composed as he loosened Bucky up, or the feeling of Steve's thick fingers stretching him wide open. 

 

8 O’clock Romance was shaping up to be pretty damn good right about now. 

 

“Steve,” Bucky panted, “I'm ready, please, I'm ready.” 

 

Steve made a low sound in his throat which Bucky took to mean he agreed, and slid his fingers out slowly, tearing open a condom and slicking up as Bucky shuddered at the sudden emptiness inside him. 

 

It wasn't for long though, and Bucky gasped as the blunt head of Steve's cock breached him, filling him in one smooth motion that made Bucky’s eyelids flutter and his breath catch as Steve settled for a moment before he began to move. 

 

Bucky opened his eyes and met Steve's gaze, a kaleidoscope of colour swirling around him; Steve's gorgeous blue eyes, light like the sky of a perfect summer's day. The blues and greens of his aura, fresh and shining like seaglass at the edge of the ocean. And finally, the bursts of fuschia, lively and untamable, the connection Steve had to Bucky. It wound around them and through Steve's own colours seamlessly, at home and bright within Steve's orbit, made better, more vivid, with his presence, his laughter and his kind heart. 

 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden wave of emotion flooding through him, the undeniable feeling of love that permeated his core and cocooned around his heart. 

 

Steve began laying kisses along his neck and jaw, bringing him back to the present with warm lips and gentle nips of teeth, the tightening in Bucky's belly and legs becoming almost overwhelming as Steve moved faster, at odds with the gentleness of his hands as they stroked tenderly over his body. 

 

_ “Buck.”  _ Steve's voice was a whisper in his ear, and Bucky tightened his thighs around him before Steve moved a hand to his cock, two slow strokes being all it took to push Bucky over the edge. 

 

He turned his head and met Steve's lips, moaning into the kiss as he came. Steve continued to thrust deeply before stilling, breaking the kiss to bury his face in Bucky's neck as he came with a groan. 

 

They separated slowly, Steve keeping Bucky wrapped close in his arms for a long moment before gently leaving the bed, removing the condom in the bathroom and collecting a warm cloth, carefully cleaning Bucky up before flopping back down beside him and gathering him into his arms. 

 

“That was…” Steve started but trailed off, deciding instead to pepper kisses along Bucky’s collarbones, his fingers smoothing through Bucky's unruly hair as they lay together, side by side. 

 

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, body lax and completely at ease as he relaxed into Steve's touch, heart full and spirit warm. “It was.”

 

* * *

“You're causing a scene.” 

 

Natasha's amused tone broke Bucky out of his kiss daze, and he reluctantly pulled back from Steve's lips, hands settling around Steve's waist as Steve stroked his thumb down Bucky's jaw. 

 

“You're just jealous.” Bucky stated with a pout, giving Steve one more chaste kiss on the lips to punctuate his statement. Technically though, Natasha was right - The store was due to open any minute.  Steve was dropping him off at work after their magical weekend together, Sunday coming and going without either of them mentioning Bucky returning back home. They had lounged around in their pajamas and gotten takeout, binging on Netflix and too many spring rolls in between makeout sessions, crawling into bed and moving together that night as if they had always known each other. 

 

It had been perfect. 

 

Steve was perfect. 

 

Steve, who was currently blushing at the unexpected interruption, but not getting any closer to pulling away because of it. 

 

“Can I see you tonight?” Steve asked quietly, one hand coming up to brush away a rebellious piece of hair from Bucky's face. 

 

Bucky smiled, heart set to burst. 

“Yes.” 

 

* * *

 

Bucky was leaning on the counter of his shop, which was not unusual for him, especially given that he was waiting for Steve. 

 

What was unusual was that Steve was 45 minutes late. 

 

It was unusual because Steve wasn't answering his texts, or his phone, when Bucky finally gave in to prehistoric pressures and called, resulting in reaching Steve's very polite but ultimately unhelpful voicemail message. 

 

Bucky was leaning on the counter because Bucky's knees were knocking together in an alarming way, because Steve was late. 

 

Bucky had been killing time puttering around the shop, cleaning and re-cleaning his coffee maker until it practically glowed, basically doing anything to not look at his phone or the clock as he waited. 

 

Steve worked in the emergency ward. He probably just got stuck at work. 

 

The thing about Steve though, was that he would always send a text if he was going to be late, even when he was swamped, because Steve didn't like to worry Bucky. 

 

Bucky wasn't worried. He wasn't. He scrubbed the spotless counter a little harder. 

 

The bell above the door dinged despite the shop being closed, and Bucky’s growing smile died on his face as Natasha, not Steve, entered the store. 

 

Natasha's face was grim, her eyes worried, and as she started talking, it didn't matter that Bucky had a counter to lean on. His knees soon gave up and let him fall to the floor with the news.

 

* * *

The hospital was surprisingly busy by the time Bucky made his way through the emergency department doors, but he pushed his way through the crowded ward to the nurses station regardless. 

 

“Steve Rogers, please, I need to see him,” he pleaded with a harried looking nurse over the noise of the room. It sounded like hundreds of killer bees buzzing inches away from his head.

 

_ “A girl was getting harassed and he stepped in,” Natasha had said, her voice sounding distant to Bucky's ears. “I saw his motorcycle parked on the street and roped off with police tape so I asked around…”  _

 

Bucky had been in his shop, cleaning and purposely ignoring his phone, as Steve had been leaving work for the day to come get him, only to be met in the gut with a knife first. 

 

The dark haired nurse took in his red-rimmed eyes and wild hair and must have recognized him, because she set down the file she was holding. “You're his boyfriend,” she concluded as she moved to a free computer. 

 

Bucky nodded, words failing him at the moment.

 

“His shift ended at six,” she advised as her eyes quickly scanned the monitor in front of her, “but they brought him back in, as a patient. He's in surgery right now. I can take you to the waiting room.” 

 

“Thank you.” Bucky breathed out, eyes once again pricking with tears at this show of kindness. Natasha squeezed his hand silently as they followed the nurse (Claire, her ID badge provided), down the hall. 

 

“It's your hair, you know,” Claire stated seemingly out of the blue, causing Bucky's attention to snap back to her and away from the now constant whirlpool of dread he seemed to be mentally circling around. 

 

His expression must have asked the question for him, because her answer came a moment later. 

 

“How I recognized you. Your hair. Steve won't shut up about you, your charm and good looks and whatnot, but he loves your hair in particular. ‘Floofy,’ he called it. I didn't really know what that meant, but he was right. It is floofy. Like cotton candy.”

 

“Cotton…” Bucky murmured before he trailed off, running one hand self-consciously through his dark strands. 

 

“It's adorable,” she continued, ignoring Bucky's confusion as they walked. “He's usually a big puppy, but since he met you it's like his puppy paws have turned into clouds or something. It would probably be annoying if Steve wasn't so damn nice to begin with. But I've never known Steve to do things halfway. Even when he falls in love, Steve gives 110%. Here we are.” Claire pushed open the door to the waiting room. “I'll let the doctors know you'll be waiting here for an update. If you need me, I'll be at the nurses station. He's in good hands Bucky, try not to worry for now.” 

 

With a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder, Claire left the room and suddenly it was just Bucky and Natasha again, Bucky's grey eyes wide as he met Natasha's gaze. 

 

“Love?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo I'm really sorry for taking such a long break, and then coming back just to stab Steve!! :O There's been a lot going on in life lately, the most significant thing being that my little 7 month old was diagnosed with craniosynostosis, which basically requires a pretty major skull surgery.  
> I think about this fic literally every single day and always feel bad that I'm updating so slowly, but obviously have a lot happening so am trying not to pressure myself. So thanks for your kind words and comments, I have known the ending for this fic since day one, I just have to find the time to get it down. I also have about 3 new fics started on my laptop, but will probably try to complete them before I even start posting, so I don't go months without updates once this fic wraps up. Love you all, thanks for sticking with me when I'm being such a crummy updater!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the epilogue to go after this!! Hope you enjoy! :)

 

 

It wasn't Bucky's fault that Steve was taking so long to wake up. 

 

It also wasn't Bucky's fault that Steve was perfect and golden and all things good, and the universe had smacked him back down to the pavement regardless. 

 

It was a nice day gone wrong, a helpful intention turned horribly sour, and Steve didn't deserve any of it. They were supposed to be at home, complaining about their days and stealing food off each other's dinner plates before cuddling into the couch together, wrapped up in a combination of blankets and each other's adoration.

 

Bucky Barnes was in love, and right now, he needed to tell his boyfriend. 

 

He was staring intently at the IV drip as the clear liquid siphoned silently into a tube connected to Steve's veins, the dependable little splash a silent metronome, a passing of time, in the otherwise still room. 

 

Natasha had left a few minutes ago in search of food for them, and Bucky had waved her away without a blink. He had something else on his mind currently. 

 

The IV, he figured, really wasn't that different from a cup of coffee. 

 

He was on his feet before he knew it, his hand letting go of Steve's limp fingers as he approached the IV pole, tilting his head to the side as he considered his options. He'd have to do it quickly, before Natasha came back and gave him shit for it.

 

He looked back at Steve, looking peaceful yet pale on the hospital bed, the operation having been a success, but still,  _ still,  _ a little extra push in the right direction couldn't hurt. 

 

Bucky brushed his fingers over Steve's golden hair and down one cheekbone to the ridge of his strong jaw, his beard tickling Bucky's fingertips on their journey. He looked deeper and saw the beautiful blues and greens that usually surrounded Steve, his good nature and sense of humor and warm heart. The oceanic colours were flickering in and out now like static on an old television set, the normally bright fuchsia of their love now a pale pink as Steve lay injured on the bed. 

 

That was all Bucky needed to convince himself to do more. Steve had already been a selfless idiot today. It was Bucky's turn now. 

 

He turned back to the IV bag and gently wrapped his hands around it, thinking about awkward first meetings and ridiculous horse accidents, kisses at the top of a ferris wheel and a medicine cabinet full of scented soaps and secrets. He thought about his supportive counter, so good for leaning on, and how blue eyes shone just right when the afternoon sun streamed in through the shop windows. He thought about new sheets and laminated schedules and the feeling of waking up warm next to someone who cared. He thought about Steve, and he thought about love, and then, as he promptly passed the fuck out, he thought about nothing at all. 

 

* * *

 

Watching Bucky wake up from his supposed fainting spell was not so different from watching him wake up in the morning, Steve considered. There was a lot of moaning (the unsexy kind, but still wonderful nonetheless) and a little thrashing and some bedhead all thrown into the mix, along with the squinty-eyed lemon face Steve had been treated to when he had tried to open the blinds “too early” on Sunday morning. 

 

“Nooooo. Steve. Noooo.” Bucky's lower lip pushed out as he pouted with only half-open eyes, and Steve was completely smitten with this man for the thousandth time this week. 

 

“What's wrong Buck?” Steve smiled and sat up a little more, his abdomen twinging slightly with the movement, far less than he expected it to, but needing to see Bucky's face regardless. 

 

“We're finally married,” Bucky murmured in a dazed and pitiful voice, “but we have Lucy and Ricky beds. Why? Steeeeve. Noooooo.” 

 

“Bucky,” Steve laughed, “open your eyes. We're in the hospital, in separate beds. We're not Ricky and Lucy. And we're not married yet either. You passed out. Are you ok?” 

 

Brilliant grey eyes blinked fully awake and Bucky rolled over in his bed to face Steve, hair wild and limbs uncoordinatedly shuffling around until he was propped up on one elbow, suddenly the perfect image of a magazine centerfold. How he managed to transform from an awkward foal to a sexy model so easily, Steve would never know. 

 

“Am I ok?” Bucky huffed, his expression turning into a complicated combination of fond and outraged. “Steve, you got stabbed today! _Am I ok_ , he asks.” 

 

Steve shrugged a shoulder, surprisingly alright with it. “It was a mild stabbing. Like a poke, but with a knife. And I feel pretty good actually. Way better than I thought I would. You're the one who passed out!” 

 

“A poke! With a knife! I'll poke you, Steve Rogers, just you wait-” Bucky threatened, prodding at the IV attached to the back of his hand, obviously looking to escape the limited range of the connection. 

 

“Buck, stop. They put it in to treat you for dehydration, they think that's why you passed out.” Steve paused, his tone turning serious. “The thing is, I know you, and I know that's probably not what happened. So I'm gonna ask you again; are you ok?” 

 

Bucky stopped toying with the IV line and met Steve's gaze, grey eyes turning misty and red at the edges. 

 

Steve slammed the call button, and as soon as Claire came in to free Bucky from his IV teather, he was in Steve's arms and wrapped in the tightest hug Steve's stitches allowed. 

 

* * *

“Magic,” Steve repeated, meeting Bucky's gaze directly as he said the word. 

 

Bucky nodded as he watched Steve mull this newfound information over silently for a moment, Bucky's palms feeling sweaty and his heart beating fast as he waited for Steve to either call bullshit and break up with him forever, or to call the mental health nurse in ASAP because Bucky had officially gone off the deep end.

 

“Makes sense,” Steve finally conceded, nodding slowly as a small smile took over his face. 

 

“Wha… Steve. It doesn't- just. What? I say ‘magic,’ and you're just like,  _ makes sense Bucky, see you tomorrow at the magic coffee shop!  _ Honestly Steve. It's as easy as that? Did your stupid knife poke stop the blood flow to your brain?” Bucky sputtered. 

 

“First of all,” Steve started, his smile blossoming as he wound their fingers together on the hospital bed, Bucky sitting perched on the edge, “that was a horrible impression of me. I'm much more dignified than that. Secondly, you should take tomorrow off work, seeing as I was stabbed-”

 

_ “Now  _ you call it a stab.” Bucky interrupted with a roll of his eyes. Steve was a moron. A beautiful, idiot, moron.

 

_ “And, _ ” Steve continued, a little louder to override Bucky's (totally true) comments, “you literally just fucking healed me with your… powers? Whatever you want to call it. And put yourself in danger in the process! Bucky!” Steve seemed to come to the realization that Bucky had potentially endangered himself as he talked himself through the explanation. “You could've killed yourself! You literally gave me some of your health, and then you passed out! That's why the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with you! What the hell were you thinking? You could have-” 

 

Bucky opened his eyes and looked deeper as Steve continued his little monologue of outrage in the background, the blues and greens of Steve swirling about in a riotous flurry, passion and concern and fear and love colliding like a summer storm that burned bright in his retinas, fuschia flashing through like lightning in a hurricane.

 

Bucky smiled as Steve berated him, waiting until he had to pause for a breath before speaking. 

 

“I love you.” Bucky said simply, holding tight to Steve's hand. 

 

“Oh,” Steve said, stupidly. “I love you too.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, your comments and best wishes on the last chapter made me want to cry, you are all so sweet and understanding!! Thank you so much! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos give me life!! <3


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